


Pretty in Pastel Pink

by Persiflage



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Clark Gregg Looks Great in Pink, Comfort Food, Director Daisy Johnson, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Finger Sucking, Fingerfucking, Happy Go Cousy, Inhumans (Marvel), Workplace Relationship, Workplace Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-19
Updated: 2018-06-19
Packaged: 2019-05-25 08:00:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14972678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persiflage/pseuds/Persiflage
Summary: S4 Canon Divergence: Daisy and Coulson are on a mission when he has a wardrobe malfunction that changes things up between them.





	Pretty in Pastel Pink

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Skyepilot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyepilot/gifts), [RowboatCop](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RowboatCop/gifts).



> Written for the Happy Go Cousy fest at Johnson & Coulson on Tumblr. Someone posted a photo of Clark Gregg wearing pink clothing, and it sparked a conversation among the Cousy fans about Coulson wearing pink. Hence this...

Daisy grits her teeth and increases the power of the vibrations she’s sending at the creature that’s trying to attack her and Coulson. The damn thing’s tougher than it looks – it seems to be withstanding her attempts to hold it off, or even blow it back, a bit too easily. 

She half turns her head towards Coulson to ask him if he’s done putting together the ICER rifle when the creature lets out a shrill noise, and the next moment it’s leaping over her head and bowling Coulson over. 

He lets out a yell of shock, but manages to hang onto the newly assembled rifle, and as Daisy swings about and aims a stream of vibrations at the creature – which fortunately overshot its mark and is struggling to right itself, exposing its soft belly to both Daisy’s vibrations and Coulson’s ICER shot, she catches a flash of pink.

“Phil, are you wearing pink underwear?” she asks, trying to suppress her amusement for his sake – there’s a large tear in the seat of his pants, exposing a tasteful pastel pink colour.

“What?” he asks, sounding irritated.

“You tore your pants when that thing bowled you over,” she tells him, and this time she can’t quite restrain her mirth. 

“It’s not funny,” he says, flashing her a sidelong look as she moves beside him, looking him over – and checking his vibrations, too – in case of injuries, but it looks like it’s only his wardrobe that’s been injured.

“It is a tiny bit,” she tells him, bumping her shoulder against his, before moving on to look at the downed creature. 

He glowers a bit, then joins her. “What the hell is this thing, anyway?” he asks in a wondering tone.

“I have _no_ idea,” she says, “but thankfully it’s no longer our problem.” She taps her earbug and calls in the waiting zoological team to come and collect the thing, which looks like a gigantic armoured dog. 

Then she turns to Coulson. “Here,” she says, and turns him about so that she can put a couple of safety pins in his pants to hold the fabric together. “We don’t want everyone knowing you prefer pink underpants.”

He flashes her a grateful smile, but she can tell he’s a bit embarrassed by the whole situation. He twitches as she tries to put the pins in, and she clasps his left shoulder. 

“Phil, you need to stand still, otherwise I’m gonna stab you in the ass – and that’d be a great shame.”

He goes absolutely still, then asks, his voice sounding raspy and strained. “Why would it be a shame?”

She wonders if she’s blushing as she answers, “Cause this is a great ass.” She does _not_ slap the ass of her former boss, now field partner, but she will admit, in the privacy of her own head, to being slightly tempted. Instead, she very professionally inserts the pins, then squeezes his shoulder again. “Done.”

“You think I have a great ass?” he asks, and she can see he’s blushing, and she knows she is too, now.

“Uh-huh,” she agrees, all eloquence lost because of the very intense way he’s staring at her.

Fortunately, before the moment can become any more awkward, they’re hailed by the advance party of people come to deal with the creature, and Daisy goes to meet and greet them, grateful for once that her public fame means she doesn’t have to introduce herself. Sometimes it gets tiresome, being so famous, but it can have positive results too.

She and Coulson are driven back to the Z1 by Piper, and he courteously rides up front so she can stretch out on the backseat and try to catch some sleep, to begin recovering from using her powers so much.

Once aboard the Zephyr, she heads straight to the Director’s Cabin, Coulson at her heels, and while she takes a fast shower and changes into sweatpants and a tank to sleep in, he busies himself in the little galley that’s attached to her quarters (and it’s still weirding her out to think that she’s the Director of SHIELD now, even though it’s been 6 months since she took over). 

When she comes back out into the main cabin, he brings a tray over to the couch, and she gives him a grateful look. “My personal hero,” she tells him, smiling as he lowers the tray down to her lap. He blushes, as he invariably seems to when she talks about him this way. “Thanks.”

He shakes his head. “It’s the least I can do for you.”

She eats as slowly as she can, though probably faster than she should – luckily, her Inhuman biology seems to prevent her from getting indigestion. “Do you have some spare pants here?” she asks between mouthfuls of bread and soup.

He looks rueful. “No, I forgot to bring a spare suit aboard with me today. If you remember, I needed the spare suit I previously had in here for our last mission.”

She grimaces, and he chuckles softly. They’d been chased by a couple of rednecks who’d objected to a ‘filthy Inhuman’ being in their neighbourhood, and while escaping them, they’d fallen into a very muddy creek. His suit had gone to the dry cleaner with a lot of apologies, while Daisy’s fieldsuit had gone to Bobbi – with nearly as many apologies – although it’d proved easier to clean that Coulson’s good wool suit.

“Take your pants off, then, and I’ll stitch them up for you. A running repair, at least, until we get back to the base.”

He swallows hard and she can see the way the muscle in his jaw tightens, but she just finishes eating her food, as if she’s said nothing out of the ordinary. After a moment, his eyebrows raised, he unfastens his pants. Daisy watches him, making no secret of the fact that she’s watching him, and she can’t help licking her lips when he slides the pants down, exposing his legs, and the pastel pink boxers she’d caught a brief glimpse of, earlier. 

She gives him a smile as she accepts his pants from him, setting aside the tray. She looks at the tear, then points at the utility belt that she wears with her field suit, which she left draped over a chair. “There’s a sewing kit in there,” she tells him. 

He gives her a slightly amused look, then crosses the room to root through the pouches on her belt, and she bites back a moan of appreciation when he bends over and the fabric of his boxers tightens over his ass. She feels slightly embarrassed by how much she wants him right now – but he looks so damn good.

He comes back to the couch where she’s sitting and she can see a slight tinge of pink in his face, and she wonders if he knows she was staring at him – he probably does. “Here,” he says, his voice gone a little husky.

“Thanks.”

She takes the kit, then digs out the little packet of needles and selects one. Coulson sits beside her, his legs stretched out, and she tries not to ogle them: they’re very well-muscled, which she knew anyway from sparring with him, and not too hairy, and she desperately wants to run her hands up them from his knees to his thighs before lowering her mouth over his cock.

“Shit!” The word slips out as she stabs herself with the needle, which she knows is her own fault for letting her imagination run riot. After all, there’s no way Coulson would be interested in having sex with her – she’s not nearly sophisticated enough.

“Let’s see.” Before she can fully process what’s happening, Coulson leans over and clasps her finger to look at the tiny bead of blood welling out of the tiny hole on the tip of her finger, then he raises her hand and licks the drop of blood away. She stares at him, jaw dropped in amazement as he then slides her finger into his mouth and swirls his tongue around it.

“Fuck, Phil!” she gasps, thoroughly aroused now.

He sucks hard on her finger and she feels her inner muscles clench in response. Her sex is already wet and throbbing, and she puts aside his pants and the sewing kit, then climbs onto his lap, pulling her finger free of his mouth so that she can kiss him.

“Fuck, Daisy,” he whispers as she begins grinding against his burgeoning erection.

“Get your fingers in me,” she tells him, well, orders him, really.

“Oh god.” He slips his hand into her sweatpants, then slides two fingers over her mound and into her sex, and she groans embarrassingly loudly in response. 

“That feels so good,” she tells him, and she wouldn’t normally talk this much during sex, but this is Phil – she wants him to be absolutely clear how much she wants him.

“For me too,” he says, then he clasps the back of her neck with his free hand and draws her in, and she needs no encouragement to attack his mouth again. 

She rides his fingers as he continues to thrust them into her, and she comes fast and hard, muffling her cries of pleasure in the side of his neck because she doesn’t want anyone to come running.

By the time he slides his fingers free of her sex, he’s rock hard beneath her, and she slides backwards off his lap, then grabs his hand, and he lets her lead him into the sleeping area of her quarters.

“I don’t have any condoms,” he says as she begins to strip him out of the remainder of his clothes.

“That’s okay, Phil,” she assures him. “You know I’m covered.” He gives a quick nod. “And I know you haven’t been sleeping with anyone since –”

“No,” he agrees, and she’s glad that he doesn’t need her to say the Dragon Lady’s name.

She pauses in her undressing of him before she gets his boxers off. “You know I love you, right?” she asks.

He chuckles softly. “Yeah, Daisy, I know. And you know I love you too.”

She grins. “I kinda assumed,” she agrees. “But it’s nice to have it confirmed in actual words.”

He smirks, then clasps her wrists. “Ready?”

“Very,” she assures him, and they slide the pastel pink boxers down off his hips, revealing his monster erection, and she sighs softly at the sight. The next moment she gives him a shove, and he looks shocked as he lands on the bed, then he grins as she crawls up his body and settles herself on top of him, his leaking cock trapped between their bodies.

“There are so many things I want to do to and with you,” she tells him. “But right now, I just want to ride you until I can’t move.”

He looks very pleased at the prospect, she notices. “I like your thinking, Director.”

“I’m glad to hear it, Agent.” She rocks against him a couple of times, then lifts her hips and between them they get his cock inside her, and she moans yet again as he fills and stretches her.

“You feel so good,” he whispers, nuzzling at the side of her neck. “So tight and wet.”

“And you’re so huge,” she tells him. 

“Yeah?”

She chuckles at his obvious attempt at nonchalance. “Yeah.” She kisses him, giving him lots of tongue. “Bigger than either Miles or Lincoln. And that’s the last time I’ll mention either of them while we’re fucking.”

“Good.” His hands clasp her hips, and she begins to rock again, enjoying the sensation of his chest hairs tickling against her skin, and the callouses on his fingers as he holds her.

As she feels another orgasm building up she can’t help thinking that she’s kinda grateful to that creature that chased them today. If it hadn’t, Phil might not’ve torn his pants, and then they wouldn’t be doing this. And she wouldn’t want to have missed this.

She reminds herself to tell him later that he looks very pretty in pastel pink.


End file.
